"Why, the French! Have they got a footing?"
"Most of 'em a wetting, cousin. But we've beat the whole crew and got the lugger."
"The lugger! Hang the lugger! What about the praams?"
"The praams!" Jack was puzzled; then a light dawned on him and he began to laugh.
"Come, come, 'tis no joke. Are they beaten back?"
"Oh, cousin, no joke! Did you really think it was Boney? Oh, I can't help it; excuse me, cousin."
It came out that Mr. Bastable had been awakened by one of his men, who declared that he heard cannons firing most horribly, and was sure 'twas Boney had come over at last. The squire got up, sent a rider post-haste to Wickham Ferrers for his troop of yeomen, and hurried into his uniform, which he kept always at hand by his bedside.
"And here we are, my lad, in an hour from the first alarm. There's quick work for you. But I'm glad 'tis no worse than a brush with smugglers. 'Twas a false alarm, my lads," he added, turning to his men. "Boney has thought better of it. Didn't care to tackle us Dorset men. You can get back and sleep sound. Now Jack, you'll come with me to the Grange. Arthur told me he'd seen you—the young rascal, stealing out at dead of night! But a good plucked 'un too, eh, Jack?"
"A chip of the old block, cousin. Just the sort of fellow we middies like."
"And that villain De Fronsac, now! What of him?"